Does Hard Work Really Pay Off?

Imagine this: Someone asks a favor from you. They'll give you like $10 for some easy, but boring work. Hey, you could use ten bucks. Sounds good, so you accept. You get started on the job. You work. And you work. And you work some more. An hour passes. Then two. Then onto three? Yup. Three hours of grueling, grinding work for a measly ten dollars. Ten dollars. Why did you even bother? Cuz you care. Cuz you said you were going to do it, and you stick to your promises. You have morals. Goddamn morals.

You hand the work over, feeling way closer to resentment than gratitude for being offered this chance to earn a few bucks. They thank you. Hours pass. You don't get paid. Hmmm... Maybe they'll pay you tomorrow. No problem. Then they approach you again. Oh, they have a second part to the job. You gotta do another one, but this one's a tad longer. Oh, and guess what? They ask you to do it RIGHT before bedtime. You're tired. You're irritated from earlier. But hey, they say it's urgent. They hope you can do it immediately. URGENT? They want it IMMEDIATELY???

You boil up, still unpaid, ready to RAGE OUT! But no. Instead, you bury those feelings down. You're a professional. You kick ASS at everything you do. You keep your promises, goddammit, no matter how often people take advantage of you for that simple fact. So you challenge yourself. You're gonna focus 1000% and finish this one faster than you did the first one. And you do. Only takes two hours this time, and it's just as good as the first one, if not better. You hand it over. You say, "I really hope you appreciate all my hard work." They reply with, "Of course we do."

A day passes. You awake. Still not paid. Over five hours of hard work that you put your EVERYTHING into and nothing. Didn't earn a single penny. You may not even get paid at all. They may get robbed of any form of payment, and there's nothing you can do about it. Just gotta wait and hopefully talk to them again to figure out WTF is going on.

Now stop imagining and realize that this happened to me last night. I was offered about $10 to transcribe two interview segments from some technology seminar or something. The first one was 11 minutes. The second was 13 minutes. Took me 3 hours and 2 hours, respectively. I do fucking awesome work, so it took that much time to get every goddamn word 100% correct and flawless. I worked hard. I worked REALLY fucking hard, like I always do. Still haven't been paid. Not a single penny. Along with another transcription I was working on last night (that I ALSO didn't get paid for), I dumped like 7 or more hours into this new "online job" I found the other day, and I've received NO compensation for my work. I fucking love it.

Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment. I don't know. But I'd certainly like to hope that I'm storing up good karma for the day when someone else can do ME a favor and help ME out. Maybe I could finally get some acknowledgement, admiration, and appreciation (and I dare say money!) for 17 years of work on my greatest passion: my book. Maybe I could finally achieve some sort of success and be able to become a truly independent "adult" like (nearly) all of my peers. Maybe I could finally meet that special girl who appreciates me, who cares about me, who likes me, who has ACTUAL romantic feelings for me, who wants to spend her precious time with me instead of the countless times I've suffered through "unrequited feelings" throughout the years.

That'd be nice. It'd be nice for hard work to pay off. Maybe earn some money. Maybe earn some happiness. That'd be nice.

Please...

I stand alone in a building. Closed doors surround me, mocking me with their silence. Glancing all around, trapped in the darkness, I am lost. I don't know which way to go. I don't know where to find her. I have to find her. I have to.

 

She must be here. I just saw her, but then she vanished. Each time is the same. Striding forward, I reach out my hand for her. She shifts, moving without really moving, escaping once more. I must keep searching for her. I have to find her. I simply have to.

 

I pick a door, throw it open, and find nothing but an empty corridor in front of me. I pick another door, then another, then another. All corridors. None of them share even a single hint, a simple clue as to where she has gone. I run, dashing down the corridor. Twisting, turning, I follow the path to another door. Another door as unkind and indistinguishable from any of the others.

 

I open it, then barrel through, finding another spacious room with absolutely nothing in it but me. It feels hollow. I feel hollow. Hollow without her. All those doors again. So many doors. None of them will comfort me. I pick another. I run through. I run and run until I can run no more. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I am unsure if I can go on.

 

So many doors. So many hallways. Doors leading to more doors. Hallways leading to even more hallways. Countless amounts of each hindering me in my quest to find her. Each time I do, sharing the same space for only a matter of moments, it seems there are even more doors and more hallways than the last time I was blessed by her presence. I keep moving, but I’m losing faith. Perhaps this quest was all for naught. Perhaps I never should have bothered to begin with.

 

Hopelessness reaches for me. I do all I can to battle it back. I know what I must do. I must keep going, I tell myself. Somehow, I must keep going. Somehow, I must find her. I must.

 

All I want is to see her face again. I need to see her smile. I am hungry for any bit of attention she can offer me, no matter how little. I would love to hold her hand. I would love to kiss her lips. I would love to gaze into her eyes. I would love to make her laugh, to make her happy, to affect her in any way. I will keep searching for her for even a single opportunity to become as important to her as she is to me.

 

Perhaps she can save me. Perhaps she can be the shining light which drives back all the darkness. Perhaps.

 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps I've been wasting days, weeks, months, years chasing after her. Perhaps the darkness is too strong for anyone to rescue me. Perhaps I cannot be saved after all.

 

Then I see her. She is in front of me again. I paused in my search, prepared to give in to my sorrow when she's there once more. Her back is turned. I catch a faint scent. Her hair. It always smelled of flowers. I extend my hand, calling out her name. My voice is weak, so I cry out, dumping every last ounce of my energy into my words of desperation.

 

Please help me, I plead. Please care about me. Please save me. Please...

 

My fingertips brush her own. I feel joy. Salvation finds me... but only for a few shallow moments. She moves away. I am lost again. I cannot breathe. I must follow, I remind myself. I chase with heavy legs, with a heavier heart. I must. I must.

 

Will I ever catch her? Will I have the strength to keep chasing her another day? Another hour? Another minute? Another single step? And if I catch her, will she accept me? Or will she shun me like I've always feared?

 

I don't know.